My grandfather passed away this weekend and the past several days I have been wrestling with that more than I would’ve imagined.
Grandpa graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering and worked for General Motors for nearly a decade. As a bright, diligent man, he could have easily lived an ordinary life of relative affluence. Instead, he felt compelled to serve others and Christ, and eschewed that career for one much more meager, humble, and transient as a United Methodist Church minister across Michigan.
I think grandpa was quite literally the kindest, most gracious person I have ever met. At times I feel I could sense from some relatives that they may have resented him for choosing that path and forsaking one of more riches; however, I do think he did a mostly successful job of passing on his virtue.
It was during a frustratingly dark time in my life years ago that it actually dawned on me how exceptional his benevolence and sympathy really were. In this period of many restless nights where I was suffering immensely from the unnecessary pain inflicted by a total lack of kindness from another, I realized I do not actually have a memory of grandpa yelling or really even raising his voice at me or any other human being. I’m sure somebody must have been on the receiving end at least once, but I cannot imagine the behavior that could’ve provoked it.
I spent countless hours in my childhood and adolescence around my grandpa – from Bible camp (which I mostly loathed) to helping with yard work nearly every weekend as a teenager. I don’t think there is another human being I’ve been around 1/10 of the time as much as grandpa where I could say the same about their composure.
During some of those weekends of yard work, on occasion, I witnessed my grandmother harshly scold, or quite frankly, verbally abuse, my grandfather over something that was usually some frivolous trifle.
Rather than escalate, every time he would try to disarm the tension with some wholesomely silly comment that could’ve been straight out of VeggieTales. Though that was never his intention, sometimes this would incite even more anger, at which point he would tolerate the abuse with composed dignity until it ceased or he could invent some excuse to meekly remove himself from the situation.
My grandfather genuinely loved everyone, quite seriously to a fault, but that is a remarkably virtuous fault to have.
Another example of his love that was recently brought to my attention was one of his last actions while residing in Lansing prior to his permanent move to Arizona in 2015. Gay marriage had been legalized across the country that summer and a local pastor had been happily obliging all of those previously unwed couples who had been waiting so long for that moment.
To this date, LGBTQ rights and gay marriage are contentious within the United Methodist Church, and a schism seems a certainty (the last one was over slavery). The local church’s board had not been pleased with these marriages, and evidently were intent on booting the pastor from it as a consequence. However, grandpa was able to step in and help change their mind.
He loved everyone whether black or white, gay or straight, sinner or saint, and in my eyes was the epitome of Christian virtue.
I imagine this very high praise may come as a surprise to some family members reading this. To others, the substantially larger surprise will likely be even though I had every opportunity in the world, I probably have not spoken to my grandfather in a decade now since approximately the time my parent’s divorced.
The last conversation I can recall between us was when I was in high school (probably ~2010-11). He was trimming his hedges and I was helping discard the rubbish. I’m sure much was discussed that I cannot recollect. What I can remember was my meticulously choosing of words to all but say, “YOUR DAUGHTER, MY MOTHER OF BIRTH, IS INCREASINGLY TREATING ME LIKE GARBAGE. IT IS INSANE SHE CURRENTLY HAS CUSTODY OF ME AND THE COURT SEEMS INTENT ON BELIEVING HER LIES AND ASSIGNING HER PERMANENT PRIMARY CUSTODY OF ALL MY BROTHERS. I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO, BUT PLEASE HELP.”
But I never asked it, and I could see the pain and conflict in his eyes in a way I had never seen before just from my flirting in that direction. I do not remotely blame him for trying to make some unimaginable choice, and I never asked one of him.
I would much rather reserve this entire post for my grandfather and his wisdom, but sadly, as I alluded, one person who seems to have either never fully grokked or has forgotten the lessons of him and Christ was my birth mother.
I will spare details of much personal pain, but I have scarcely spoken to her since one night in high school she screamed and chased a crying me out of her home until my dad was able to arrive. From that date, I refused to go back regardless of what any court would say unless they could drag me there in shackles. Then our estranged relationship pivoted from mostly rare and burdensome exchanges to me realizing in college I could just entirely block her toxicity from my life, so I did, and I was immediately (and remain) in a much better place for it. My slightly younger brother essentially followed suit not long later.
My only regret is it seems cutting my birth mother from my life has also, not by design, meant the unintended cutting of most of our mutual relatives. It wasn’t helped by their presence on the opposite half of the country, but just because I’d rather never have my birth mother ever know my approximate location does not mean this was the only path I could’ve taken…
Fast forward to the present day, despite entirely annihilating relationships with her two eldest sons, my birth mother still has primary custody of my baby brother – who at the time I last spoke to my grandpa was a toddler. Now he is 12 and is increasingly realizing the ludicrousness of his conditions with each passing day.
Speaking of, a couple of days after my grandpa’s passing, I learned my baby brother has now contracted COVID after one of the cultish Bible study groups (n.b. the vast majority of Bible study groups are not like cults, but this one definitely is) of my birth mother and step-father had an outbreak. Even though both of them had been eligible for vaccination at least a month (her now-husband is a healthcare professional btw), their anti-vax beliefs prohibited them from acquiring immunity because this sickness and inflicting it upon my brother is all part of God’s plan.
Prior to his passing, my grandpa had been vaccinated and could not wait to do so. To him, God’s plan was a miraculous invention that could prevent everyone from getting sick…
Reflecting upon myself, at times I am excessively arrogant, smug, and vulgar. I share an aptitude for analysis with my grandpa, but unlike him, I feel mine comes at the cost of often cold detachment from others. Grandpa would always warmly take an interest in someone and their problems no matter how small. I share my grandfather’s toleration of anger, and though I usually do not yell back, unlike him in lieu of wholesome silliness I find myself often resorting regularly to passively aggressive dry sarcasm.
Other than the vulgarity (which I still quite enjoy), ever since his impressiveness dawned on me those years ago I wished to be more like him in all those ways, and have at least tried.
So I say to anyone still reading, next time you think of trying to hurt someone else, please try to think of my grandfather as I do. The world is already filled with enough hurt and pain caused without intention, there is little need for deliberate malevolence. In economics speak, kindness is underrated at the margins.
To his kind family who may think themselves estranged, I still love you, feel free to reach out.
To my grandpa, I love you. I feel you now as one of the people pulling my strings to type these words. I wish I had the strength to have told you all this in person.
Edit: I appreciate all of the kind words I have received in response. I do wish to highlight to those who have expressed concern and may not be aware that I still have – and always have had – a close, loving relationship with my dad. I’ve also been very fortunate for almost a decade now to have had my wonderful stepmother in my life, who is a more exemplary mother to me than I ever thought was possible growing up.